


The Path to Intimacy

by lumbeam



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, Foreplay, LEDs as mood rings, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Watching, Robot Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexting, Teasing, guided masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-06-23 01:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15595440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumbeam/pseuds/lumbeam
Summary: Stories of Hank and Connor's sexual excursions.





	1. Chapter 1

The path through Hank and Connor’s sexual relationship has been varied and, well, exactly as expected. It started out with just simply kissing, which was enough of a challenge to start with. Hank had to teach Connor not to stick his tongue out like a lizard eating crickets when they were French kissing. Thankfully, androids are fast learners.   
  
There was this one night where they ventured beyond kissing. They were each working on different case files in the living room, Connor sprawled out on the floor and Hank sitting on the couch swiping through photos on the DPD tablet. Naturally, the android designed for working with the police was done with paperwork and research before the middle-aged lieutenant. As he was collecting the files on the floor, Connor glanced up at Hank, sitting wide-legged on the couch. Almost as if it was a directive, he reached for Hank’s hand and grabbed it. Hank looked up from his tablet only to see Connor staring back at him, giving what can only be described as “bedroom eyes.” Who knew androids could even _make_ eyes like that?

He wordlessly climbed up on the couch, prompting Hank to intertwine his hand with Connor’s. “What’s going on here?” Hank asked playfully, setting his tablet down on the armrest of the couch. Connor, eyes dark and searching, grabbed Hank’s other hand. He moved closer and closer to Hank until their lips met. This kiss seemed different from previous ones. It was _knowing_ , _hungry_. Connor, moving his hands from Hank’s, roamed around Hank’s body until settling on his face. His hands started massaging Hank’s earlobes, which Hank found weird, but also expected from an android. Hank, breaking the kiss, asked “Whasgotten into you, Connor?”

“I...don’t know.” Connor said quietly. They sank back into a deeper kiss. Hank’s hands gripped Connor’s sides, hoisting him onto his lap. Eventually, Hank started to push Connor downwards on his lap, getting some much needed friction on his cock. Connor, understanding this motion, continued the friction. Connor increased his sensitivity function, causing his skin to melt away from where Hank touched him. Taking note of this, Hank took hold of Connor’s face, making little bites along his lower lip and jaw.

Connor eventually increased his sensitivity to its max capacity. His skin was completely gone. Hank, determined to make _something_ happen to Connor, continued to suck and kiss and caress his casing until he could feel his thirium pump coursing through his body. He could hear his organs rattling from the intensity of the thirium flowing. Soft moans were escaping his mouth. Hank pulled back with his hands still on him, getting a better look at Connor. His LED was strobing blue, yellow, red, blue, yellow, red. 

 

Yellow, yellow, yellow. Red.

Red. Red. Red. Red. Yellow.

Yellow, red.

 

Yellow.

Blue. Blue.  


Hank didn’t realize it, but he was holding his breath watching Connor. Connor’s skin poured back over his face. He opened his eyes.

They looked at each other, frozen. Until Hank decided to break the silence in the most Hank way possible.

“Did you just fuckin’ cum?” He asked, in equal parts amazement and confusion.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Connor said, turning his sensitivity down to thirty percent. “It...it felt like a million sparks were coursing through me. It’s almost like I experienced a power surge. It was...peculiar.”

“It sure sounds like an orgasm to me.” Hank chuckled, resting a hand on Connor’s forearm. “Could we, uh…?” He made a gesture with his hand that he sincerely hoped Connor would understand.

He did. “Oh, of course.” He settled back down into his lap, creating that friction Hank so desperately needed.

And that’s how Hank, at 53 years old, came from an android dry-humping him.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Much like kissing, the path to oral was just as belabored. Connor brought up blowjobs one night when Hank was watching the Detroit Tigers game. It was the bottom of the eighth, and it was looking like the opposing team was going to be shut out. Right as the third out happened and the game was declared over, Connor jumped on the opportunity to steal Hank’s attention away from the television.

“Hank, I’d like to try fellatio.”

Hank scoffed. Glancing over incredulously at him, Hank said, “Jesus Christ, that was out of nowhere.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that. We’ve steadily been going further and further with our sexual activities.”

“I get that, Con, I just mean it’s a weird thing to bring up right after a baseball game.”

Connor said nothing. He just waited.

“Do you even know about how to give a blowjob?” Hank grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.

A pause. “I know what happens during it.”

“Yeah, okay, but that doesn’t mean you know how to do it. The abstract is not the same as the practice, you should know that.”

“You could always teach me.” Connor said, inching closer to Hank.

“I don’t -- I’m not--” Hank has only needed to teach one other person how to give a blowjob. Of course, he’s gotten a lot more blowjobs than he could count since then, but he’s never had to guide them. The first and last time he “taught” someone was with his first girlfriend when he was fifteen which might as well have been a lifetime ago. Then he remembered what he told her then. “Well, you could always watch some ‘educational videos.’”

Yellow LED. “You mean pornography.”

“You got it.”

“Are we going to watch it together?”

Sighing, he asked, “If we don’t watch it together, are you going to hold it against me?”

“No,” Connor lied. Hank noticed the yellow.

“All right, come on then.”

_____

Connor, sitting perfectly still in the bed, hands resting on his lap, watched Hank hunched over on his laptop. “Have you found anything worthy of sharing with me?”

“Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?” Hank asked, scrolling through thumbnails of various porn videos. He originally tried to find android/human porn videos, but eventually he gave up on that search. Now it’s just all human porn. Maybe it would be better to have human-focused porn for this occasion.

Connor shrugged. “You’ve just been quiet.”

“I’m just busy in trying to-- wait, this might work.” He clicked on one of the thumbnails.

In the video, it starts with a man and a woman making out. _So far so good_ , Connor thought, not bothering to analyze their movements. They quickly progress to ripping off each other’s clothes. _Not how I would do it to Lt. Anderson, but this is familiar_. The man in the video pushes the woman onto the bed and spreads her legs open, immediately going to eating her out. _As Hank does not have female genitalia, I can disregard this._ Connor’s LED is spinning slowly, yellow light pulsing.

The cunnilingus happens for only a minute (Connor counted), and then it’s time for the woman to return the favor. _Now I need to pay attention_. The woman gets off from the bed and kneels in front of the man. He gives his cock a few strokes before putting it in the woman’s mouth. Connor notices her mouth open wider to prevent her teeth from catching on anything, he assumes. He watches the woman go right down to the base of the cock, and the man has his hand on the back of her head. _It seems to me that this doesn’t involve any sucking or_ suction _, which seems to be an important detail._

After getting the gist of the basics, he flicked his eyes over to Hank. He’s entranced in the video too, but in a very different way from Connor. He is starting to rub at his cock through his boxers, for once undeterred that Connor was there. And, for maybe the first time since moving in together, Connor was more concerned with watching something than watching Hank.

He directed his focus back to the video. The woman is now dragging her tongue down the man’s cock, then coming back to the tip, swirling around the head. _Using your tongue in varied ways is important._ She continues with sucking the man’s cock until the man says, “I’m gonna cum!” in a strained voice. The woman takes note of this announcement, keeping her mouth open just under his cock. The man groans and ejaculates partially in the woman’s mouth and partially on her face, mercifully missing her eyes. _Since Lt. Anderson is showing me this video, he must also like ejaculating on people’s faces. With consent, of course._

Connor, after taking in most of what he saw, turned to Hank and asked, “Can...can I try now?”

Hank, with his hand wrapped around his cock, looked over at Connor with half-lidded eyes and said, “If you want to. I’m not gonna stop you from trying.” His voice was low and heavy with lust. It’s not the kind of temperament that Connor is used to, not that he was complaining. Connor leaned over, aligned his head directly over Hank’s cock, and he went down on him.

If Hank were forced to describe the feeling of Connor’s mouth and throat, he’d liken it to a Fleshlight. Not that he’d ever used one, _of course_. His mouth was slick-feeling, enough of the impression of a human’s mouth, but just different enough for Hank to remember who exactly was sucking his dick. It weirded him out him much less than he expected.

“ _Fffffffuck_ ,” Hank groaned out, running one of his hands along the back of Connor’s neck. Connor’s skin started to melt away with the touch. He pushed down, and Connor got the idea. The rhythm of Hank rubbing Connor’s neck and Connor continuously sucking his cock without breaks doesn’t last as long as Hank thought it would, damning his longevity.

Hank didn’t even consider there wouldn’t be any resistance or gag reflex. The realization caught up with him quickly, and before he knew it he was spilling his load in Connor’s throat. A soft hum of satisfaction came from Connor, who was trying his hardest to get a drop of cum on his tongue for quiet analysis. It didn’t happen.

When Connor pulled his mouth off of Hank’s cock (no saliva trail, no _nothing_ ) he’s greeted with the image of Hank gasping for air, staring at him in awe. Sweat was forming at the top of his forehead.

Smirking, Connor asked, “So, that was satisfactory?”

Hank breathed out a laugh. “You already know that answer.”


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

One night, when a goodnight kiss progressed into goodnight making out, Connor whispered in Hank’s ear, “I want to see you, Hank. All of you.”

Hank was frozen by this request, keeping quiet and busy with kisses until he said back, “Same to you.”

Connor turned on his bedside lamp, much to Hank’s chagrin. (No hiding anything here.) He sat straight up, attention focused entirely on Hank. “Do you have to watch me as I’m undressing?”  
  
“You watch me as I change.” Connor said, not fully understanding Hank’s embarrassment.

“Yeah, well, CyberLife didn’t program you with self-esteem issues, and, and fuckin’ scars and stretch marks, _okay_?” Hank said defensively.

“If you would like, I could turn around as you undress. I’ll also undress in the meantime, facing the wall. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Hank.”

Hank didn’t look over at Connor to know that he was giving him _that_ look. The big brown eyes puppy dog look. So sincere, it made Hank want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

Taking Hank’s non-response as an answer, Connor turned around and started to undress. He slipped out of Hank’s old pajamas, all the while listening to the rustling of fabric on Hank’s side.

Hank tugged his shirt off of him and kicked his boxers off. He was trying to think of the best way to...reveal himself to Connor. He decided upon tucking himself back under the covers. “All right, I’m ready, I guess...”

Too suddenly, Connor turned around on the bed, legs tucked under him. Hank could feel Connor’s eyes on him. Hank looked over at Connor for the first time, surprised to see a perfect mannequin posed on his bed. Mannequin in every sense of the word. Connor saw Hank’s slight surprise as his eyes trailed down past his belly button.

“Oh, I--I’m sorry, I should have warned you.” Connor says, stuttering a little as his CPU worked in overtime to try and get to this new sense of awareness.

“No, nah, it’s fine. Not sure _why_ I would expect you to have a dick…” Hank trailed off, finally pulling his eyes away from Connor’s mound.  
  
“If you would like, CyberLife sells a variety of attachments that suit--” Connor said too quickly, to try and cover up his own discomfort.

Hank held up his hand, stopping Connor’s salesman pitch. “Let’s...let’s worry about that another day.” That’s a tricky conversation that he’s thankful he can push off for later. He motioned for Connor to move closer to him. He obliged. Connor turned up his sensitivity at his own discretion.

Hank started off slowly with the touches, having his fingers skim the surface of Connor’s skin, trying to find the exact areas of interest. It was similar to a game of “warmer/colder,” with Connor answering in the affirmative instead of temperature readings. It answered questions Hank already knew: the slight fluttering of Connor’s eyelids as his thumb brushed his lips, the way his skin slipped from his ears as Hank rubbed at the lobes, the sheer _excitement_ as Hank licked at the tips of Connor’s fingers. He thought if Connor had dealt with any blood as he swirled his tongue around his pointer finger, but either way, he didn’t taste anything.

But what about _lower_?

After making Connor shudder from Hank sucking his fingers (finger-llatio? Finger fell-ating?), he trailed his hands down to Connor’s smooth torso. His finger and thumb pinched at one of Connor’s nipples, but he wasn’t met with the same response as earlier. Not being dismayed, Hank brushed his fingers down Connor’s flanks, which got a small sound out of him. Eager to watch Connor slowly unravel to his touch, Hank sat up focused his attention into dragging his fingers across Connor’s stomach, eventually having one hand brazenly slip down between Connor’s legs.  
  
It felt like...Well, like someone’s shoulder. Hank pressed his fingers into it, seeing if there was any give. There was not. Hank rubbed at this bump, trying to get a reaction, until Connor’s hand grabbed Hank’s hand and pulled it back up to the side of his face. “I feel more up here.” Connor said, with a slight tinge of discomfort in his voice.  
  
“Hey, okay, okay, I just wanted to feel you.” Hank said in a low tone, his thumb brushing against Connor’s cheek. Hank pulled him in for a kiss. His hands ran from Connor’s cheeks down to his shoulders, scratching his nails against Connor’s skin. His skin melted away to his casing, and before long Hank was sucking Connor’s neck, his hands rubbing up and down his back. Eventually, when Connor’s LED was practically flickering in response all the attention, Hank pulled Connor in for a tight hug. “C’mon Connor, let go. I got ya...” Hank muttered in Connor’s ear. One of his hands trailed up to the back of Connor’s neck and started to rub the smooth covering.

And that’s what did it. Connor’s shell rattled at Hank’s touch flooding his senses. His LED was strobing bright enough to be a second light source in the bedroom. Bluebluered, yellowredyellowblueblueblueredredredredyellowyellowyellow. Yellowyellowredredredredyellow. Yellow. Blue, blue...blue. Blue.

Connor stopped shaking in Hank’s arms, and his skin projection slipped back over him, slowly. Hank released his grip on him. No heavy breathing, no perspiration, no sighing. The only indication that something was a major shock to Connor’s system are the slight fluttering of his eyelids. Still processing.

Hank cupped his hand under Connor’s chin. “Hey, Con, you all right?”

Connor opened his eyes. “That was…” He tried to find the right word for it. “Satisfying.”

Hank grinned at this. “Good, glad I know where to touch you to get your motor running.”  
  
“My motor never stops running, Hank.”

Scoffing, Hank said, “You _know_ what I mean.”

Connor smiled crookedly back at him. Then he directed his attention to Hank’s figure.  
  
For a moment, Hank managed to forget that he was completely naked. How blissful it was to not be concerned with his state of undress. That bliss died when he saw Connor staring too intently at his bare chest.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s not much.” He made a gesture to his body. “Or,  _fuck_ , maybe it’s too much. I don’t--”

Connor tentatively put a hand over Hank’s chest. His fingers traced over Hank’s large chest tattoo of a samurai in a clock face, decorated by lotus flowers on either side of the clock. He got it a long time ago, on the night of his thirtieth birthday. He was out with his buddies, decently buzzed (back when he had some semblance of self-control), and he finally arranged to get a tattoo. Up until then, he only toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo, but with the fear of ageing mixed with the confidence of alcohol, he decided that night was the night.

He doesn’t regret it. There are a lot worse things he could have gotten.

When his fingers were done circling the rim of the clock, Connor asked, “Why the samurai in the clock?”

Hank shrugged and said, “You’d have to ask 2015 Hank. He would explain it better. As for 2039 Hank: I like samurais, and I’m afraid of time. S’that good enough for you?”

Connor said nothing. He continued to trace along the faded line work of the tattoo. When he was done with using his fingers, he kissed his way across the length of the tattoo. His hands moved down further. He groped and slid his hands around Hank’s stomach until he eventually traced his way down to the five inch-long scar right near his belly button. After scanning it closely, Connor said, “Judging by the jagged edge of the scar and the healing process, is this from--”

“Please, I was already uncomfortable with you roaming around my gut, so I don’t want to discuss _that_ now.” Hank pleaded, running a hand through his hair. Connor decided not to press any further. He laid a hand across the scar as if to shield it from Hank. He sat back up in bed, his hand still on the scar.  
  
“Where do you like to be touched?” Connor asked, wanting to make it up to Hank.  
  
After considering it for a moment, Hank said, “Pretty much only my cock.”

“Hank, I find that hard to believe. The human body contains around twenty _million_ nerves, with most people having up to _ten_ erogenous zones--”

“What, you wanna find out, see if I match up to your statistics? Go ahead.” Hank said in an exasperated tone. The sheet was still covering up Hank’s lower half. Connor scanned his vitals. Definitely not aroused in the slightest.

But, and it may be his fatal flaw, Connor always accomplished what he wanted to do.

He started with where his own erogenous zones are. His hands rubbed against Hank’s beard before bringing him into a kiss. Their tongues wound around each other, and a small moan escaped Hank’s vocal chords. Connor perked up at this noise, trying to replicate the movements of his mouth and tongue to hear it once more. It did not happen.  
  
Connor, breaking the kiss, said, “So you like to be kissed.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Hank groaned, “Yes, how revolutionary! Of course I like to be kissed, who doesn’t?”

Connor ran his fingers down to Hank’s throat next, and Connor put his lips on his Adam’s apple. Hank was a little put off of this at first, but then he remembered who was doing this to him. Connor sucked Hank’s Adam’s apple until Hank asked, “The fuck are you doing?”

Connor pulled his mouth off of Hank’s throat, although he personally liked feeling it through his lips. “Nothing, just exploring.”

He continued searching for spots to get Hank to make _that_ sound again. His hands roamed to his chest again, and Connor grabbed at Hank’s pecs.  
  
“Augh, Connor, come on!” Hank yelled, swatting at Connor’s hands. Connor, remembering the move that Hank tried on him, also pinched at one of his nipples. Hank yelped. Apparently it was too hard of a pinch. “ _Fuck_!”

“Sorry Hank,” Connor said, hands retreating down to Hank’s sides.

“I’ll be lucky if I don’t have a goddamn bruise in the morning, _Christ_ …” Hank rubbed at his tender nipple.

Connor’s hands snuck back up to Hank’s soft chest. He motioned to move Hank’s hand away, to try again.

“Connor, you’re not--” Hank felt the soft touch of Connor’s hands along his chest, then the words he was about to say left his mind completely. The tips of Connor’s fingers traced at the slope of Hank’s chest, circling around his nipples. Hank would never admit it, but it felt nice. Although part of him was worried Connor would try suckling his nipples as if he were a calf. Hank didn’t tell him to _not_ to do that, because reverse psychology works so well on him.

Connor got closer to the nape of Hank’s neck, his hands dragging back out to Hank’s sides. Hank could feel Connor’s tongue against his neck, tongue darting around to taste the slight sweat forming at his collarbone. Hank didn’t bother in scolding Connor, because soon after he started to suck and bite at Hank’s neck like an inexperienced vampire. Hank told him in the past about not giving him hickeys, because the guys at the station would never let him live it down. He didn’t talk about his personal life much anymore, but the other officers knew enough to glean who could be giving him those marks.

In the meantime, Connor’s hands scratched up and down Hank’s flanks. He started playing with rhythm and pressure on Hank’s skin. Slowly, quietly at first, Hank started making small groans as Connor got more handsy. Remembering the warning Hank once gave about hickies, he moved from the neck and went downwards, his hands dragging along Hank’s torso.

Feeling that it was time to move further, Connor tore away the sheet from Hank. Hank let out a small gasp as the cool air hit his lower half, and he curled his legs up slightly on reflex. Connor grabbed at his thighs, settling them back down onto the bed. He ran his fingers over his left thigh, analyzing the tattoo. A serpent. “What’s the--” Connor started, looking up from the intricate tattoo. Hank shrugged as a response.

Connor, making a note to ask Hank later, placed his lips on the tattoo. He traced his tongue around the coil of the snake.  
  
“Connor, you’re not going to taste tattoo ink!” Hank scolded, lifting that leg up slightly to get Connor to stop licking him for once.   
  
“I know,” Connor said in an embarrassed tone, rubbing along the front of Hank’s thigh. He crawled in-between Hank’s legs, the pads of his fingers digging into his thighs. Hank groaned at the feeling, slightly, but Connor wanted more.  
  
Leaning forward between Hank’s legs, he pointedly didn’t pay any attention to Hank’s half-hard cock. Instead, Connor bit a straight line along his inner thigh, starting from the bend of Hank’s knee. He managed to do a cursory search earlier when he was counting up all the nerve endings in the human body on common erogenous zones. For men and women, inner thighs were the most common area of interest.  
  
Judging by the noises coming from Hank, he was also in the common denominator of Connor’s search. He continued with the soft bites along his other thigh.

“ _Connor_ ,” Hank groaned. Connor moved his mouth closer to Hank’s cock, stopping just short at his groin. Connor laid flat on the bed. His arms wrapped around Hank’s thighs, letting his mouth do the exploring. He dragged his tongue along the line of Hank’s groin, undeterred by the amount of pubic hair. He moved his tongue further, over to Hank’s scrotum, licking at the texture. His mouth wrapped around one of Hank’s balls, Connor’s tongue feeling it move under the skin. Then he allowed the other ball to enter his mouth, his tongue massaging the skin in between them.  
  
Hank groaned through his hand. One hand moved to covering his face, and the other went to resting on Connor’s hand. It felt _nice_ , really nice. Hank couldn’t remember the last time he had someone pay attention to his balls like this. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time someone paid this much attention to him in this capacity. (He knew exactly when, but he quickly pushed that out of his mind.) He grabbed at Connor’s hand in a tighter grip.

Connor moved his mouth up from Hank’s scrotum to the space between that and his cock. He swirled his tongue around the base of Hank’s cock before finally dragging his tongue up the underside. He flicked his tongue at the slit, picking up a bead of precum as he did it. He unwrapped his arms from under Hank’s thighs, and Hank moved his hand that was on Connor’s.  
  
He sat up, tucking his legs under himself. Connor looked up at Hank, who was panting, _waiting_ for Connor to continue. He wrapped his hand around Hank’s cock, which Hank gasped at slightly. Connor, with that shit eating grin on his face, asked, “So, this is your _only_ erogenous zone?”  
  
Hank, laughing humorlessly, replied “Ha-ha, yeah, congratulations for proving me wrong, asshole.”  
  
Connor went down on him, flicking his eyes up at Hank once his mouth finally made contact with the head of Hank’s cock. Hank groaned in such an undignified way that made Connor pause for a moment, eyes not leaving Hank’s face as he went up and down his cock with ease.  
  
Hank was quickly unraveling as Connor continued blow him. His hand gripped his shoulder, and the white casing appeared once again. Hank moved that hand to Connor’s collarbone, tracing along the curve of his shell. He ran his fingers around, watching the skin melt away.  
  
Connor pulled off of Hank’s cock with a slick sound. “You don’t have to do that.” Connor said, wanting the orgasm (or orgasm adjacent) counts to be equal for tonight. The skin projection around his mouth was gone.

“What if I _want_ to, though?” Hank asked, his voice rougher than usual. His hand trailed up to the side of Connor’s face. Connor smiled slightly at the touch.  
  
He went back down. Hank could see the glow of his LED against his inner thigh. The colors were changing again. Hank thought, Fucker must have upped his sensitivity…  
  
Connor was focusing only on getting Hank off. He started to use one hand to massage at Hank’s balls, and the other to wrap around the base of Hank’s cock. His android synapses were firing off with the attention that Hank was giving him, and from the attention he was giving Hank. He could feel Hank’s thighs close around him, Hank’s hand caressing him. His mouth was wrapped around Hank’s cock, his senses consumed by Hank, his mind filled only with Hank.  
  
Hank, on the other hand, was shaking. His hand was shaking against Connor’s white neck, creating an uneven rhythm of his nails against the plastic. He was so close, so tantalizingly close, that it only took a few strokes of Connor’s hand paired with the handling of his balls to send him over the edge.  
  
  
Hank, Hank, _Hank_ \--

Connor, Connor, _Connor_.

Yellow, red, _red red R E D._

Fuck, fuck, _FUCK!_  
  
  
Without warning, Hank shot his load into Connor’s mouth. Which was fine for Connor, despite his preoccupation. Hank tightened his thighs around Connor’s shaking body, trying to stabilize him. Connor was still down on Hank’s cock, keeping in every drop of cum. Hank, sweaty and coming down from one of the most intense orgasms this side of the century, was the first to move Connor’s head off of his softening cock. As he did this, Connor’s skin went back over his body. His mouth was still kept tight.

“ _Fuck_ , Connor, that was--” He thought about what Connor said earlier, “ _Satisfying_.”

Connor gave him a tight-lipped smile. He picked up his pajamas again, feeling odd about the breeze against his groin area.  
  
“You gonna...swallow that, or spit it out, or…” Hank trailed off from his question. It shouldn’t be a concern for him. With what Connor did to him, he could use it as goddamn mouthwash for all he cares. Hank started to get dressed.

He heard Connor swallow.

Now Hank had to know. “Where does that go? Thought you couldn’t eat or drink anything.”  
  
Connor, pulling his pajama top over his head, replied, “I’m installed with a small waste container at the top of my thoracic cavity, for instances if I ingest a sample. I try to clean it out weekly.”  
  
Hank couldn’t believe his partner could go from swallowing a load to giving an android biology lesson in less than five minutes. Incredible. He slowly nodded, his brows furrowed.  
  
“I really enjoyed that, Hank.” Connor said after a lull between the two of them, slipping back into bed with Hank. Hank knew he should shower, but he decided to set his alarm earlier than usual. That’s Future Hank’s problem.  
  
“Yeah, I...me too.” Hank smiled at Connor. His LED is a soft blue.

Connor turned off the light and curled up next to Hank, holding him close through the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my side tumblr is iamgoingtofightdavidcage.tumblr.com.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Connor is in Washington D.C., he sends Hank a text.

Hank takes a gulp of his beer.

It’s lonely in the house. Connor is in D.C. assisting Markus in discussions with President Warren. In a way, _of course_ Connor would also go there with Markus as a representative. He’s CyberLife’s prototype police android, the first to be assigned in investigating Deviants. However, it’s late, and explanations for Connor’s absence doesn’t repel the loneliness Hank feels coming on.

He flips through the channels until he finds a rerun of _The X-Files._ Just as Agent Mulder brings up evidence as being possibly paranormal to Agent Scully, Hank hears his phone ping. It’s a picture from Connor. He swipes the screen to see it. It’s a view of the D.C. skyline, the lights glittering across the city. As Hank zooms in on the picture, he gets another text from Connor.

_Here’s the view from my hotel. I thought you would like it._

Hank takes another swig of his beer before responding.

_Well look at you now, con. Don’t you feel important?_

He rereads his text after he sends it. He knows his surliness is part loneliness, part alcohol. Another text from Connor.

_I feel more important by your side, working on cases. I miss you._

Hank smiles at the text. Before Connor left for his trip, he managed to link up a messaging system with his CPU. This way, he could text Hank whenever he wanted. Connor has maintained radio silence for the majority of the trip, undoubtedly because of the mountain of red tape he and Markus have to go through. So many protocols...

 _Miss you too._  
Hank is thankful for autocorrect. He shudders to think of the days of typing shorthand with singular letters and numbers. After finishing off his beer, he then sends another text.

_How’s your hotel look?_

A second later, Connor sends a picture of an upscale hotel room. He notices there’s only one bed.

_You have your own room?_

_Correct._

Hank grabs his phone and makes his way to his bedroom.  
  
_What are you up to?_ Connor sends.

 _Getting ready for bed,_ Hank sends back. He lays on the bed. Against his better judgement, he adds, _feeling lonely._

_I’m sorry to hear that._

_What are you wearing?_ Hank asks. He stretches out on the bed.

 _Why do you ask?_  
_Connor you know why. Don’t act like you didn’t text me first, esp this late._

A moment later, Connor sends a picture of himself in front of the full-length mirror in his hotel room. He’s standing perfectly straight in his boxer briefs and a thin white t-shirt. In the back he can see his suit is perfectly hung up. Hank wonders if he just got out of it, or if he’s been roaming around in his hotel room in his underwear. He knows it’s the former, but hopes for the latter.

Connor sends another picture in front of the mirror. His shirt is off now, folded perfectly behind him on the bed. Before Hank could respond, another picture. Connor’s hand is down the front of his boxers. Hank’s breath hitches, wishing teleportation could be a reality.

Another picture. Connor’s hand gripping his hard cock through the fabric of his boxers.

 _Tease_. Hank starts to rub his cock over his boxers as well.

_At least I’m sending pictures to you. I think it would be beneficial if you sent a picture to me, Lieutenant._

Hank freezes at that word on his phone. _Don’t call me that now, Con._

 _Why not, Lieutenant?_ He knows what the fuck he’s doing. Hank grits his teeth.

 _If you want me to stop calling you that, text me back in the next minute._  
_Lieutenant._  
  
_:)_

Hank remembers back when he first met Connor. It felt like every sentence contained that title. Now, since Connor is a Deviant, he’s learned how to get under Hank’s skin in a _very_ different way.

Hank waits a minute. Connor texts back: _Thought so. Lieutenant._

Hank sticks his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

Connor goes back to the previous topic. _I hope you send me a picture soon._

Hank groans. He doesn’t want to have to deal with the angling and the dreaded front-facing camera. Hank tugs down his boxers and pulls his shirt over his gut (for whatever reason, that’s become a huge interest point for Connor as of late). As he’s doing this, he gets a text.

_You know I don’t like to wait._

Connor gets like this sometimes. Bossy, even smug, sometimes. The meetings he had today had to have gone well for him to get like this. Hank grins, holding his phone above his torso. He glances at the picture before sending it off to Connor, not dwelling on how he looks in it.

_Very good, Lieutenant._

Hank’s hand immediately wrapped around his dick again. He lets out a small gasp, relishing the skin on skin feeling. He types his next message with one hand, _Now it’s your turn._

 _What do you want me to do?_ Hank can only imagine the shit-eating grin Connor has on his face right now. If only he could slap it off of him.

 _Send me your cock, con._ Hank strokes a little slower, just enough to keep him hard.

Connor sends a picture of his cock on the bed. It looks bizarre, seeing an android cock without an owner. He detached his cock just for a fucking joke. If Hank weren’t so horny, he’d laugh at this.

 _Connor please,_ is all he could type.

After Connor presumably attaches his dick again to his pelvis, he writes back: _Would it be easier if I called you, Lieutenant? I understand it’s hard to text one-handed._ He even sends a _;)_ just to make Hank even more annoyed.

It works.  
Hank tosses his phone to the other side of the bed, his attention going back to jacking off. He shuts his eyes. He thinks of Connor. He focuses on the feeling of his hand going up and down his shaft. He furrows his brows. His phone pings again. He ignores it. He tries not to think about Connor, but struggles.

Then Hank’s phone starts pinging multiple times in a row. Hank grabs his phone again with a sigh.  
  
_If you don’t want to do this anymore, that’s fine. I have plenty of scenarios in my programming that I could entertain myself with. :)_

 _I’m sorry Hank._  
_Was that too much?_  
_If you’d like, I could do the work for you._  
_I could tell you what to imagine._  
_All you would have to do is participate._  
_I want to make you feel good._

_Send me a response._

Hank, weighing his options, texts back _fine_.

The texts start rolling in.

 _Just listen to me hank._  
_Imagine what I’m telling you, and just focus on that._  
  
_Imagine I’m kneeling right in front of you on the bed._  
_I’m watching you touch yourself._

Hank shuts his eyes as he imagines it, he imagines Connor watching him analytically, drinking in every bit of information from the scene. He imagines Connor focusing on the way Hank’s right hand is wrapped around his cock. He thinks of Connor counting the beads of sweat forming on his brow, using willpower to not lick up every drop. He imagines Connor watching Hank’s heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath.

 _I want to join in, Hank._  
  
_Can I?_ He sends the question even though he fully knows the answer. Hank can nearly feel the desperation in the texts. He imagines Connor touching himself, unable to even stand not touching Hank for another second.  
  
_I’m starting to touch you._  
_I’m tracing my hands up your legs._  
_I’m moving closer to you._  
_I want to help you come._

Hank whispers a “please” as he reads the texts coming in on his phone.

 _I need to stroke your cock, Hank._  
  
_Start stroking your cock with your other hand._  
Hank does, reluctantly. He never strokes with his other hand. It feels foreign, almost.

 _That’s my hand._  
_I’m being gentle._  
_Too gentle._  
_I’m too slow for your pace._  
_Be slow in your strokes._  
_I’m watching your face as I do this._  
_Are you watching me back?_

Hank nods to no one, imagining staring at Connor’s perfect face staring back at him.

 _I hope you’re being gentle with your strokes like I asked._  
_I don’t want you to come just yet._ Hank bites his lip, feeling a fire in the pit of his stomach.

 _I inch closer to you._  
_I feel the heat of your body on my skin._  
_It’s intoxicating._  
_I want to feel all of you, all at once._  
_But I know I have to wait._  
  
_And so do you._

Hank lets out a strained groan, his fingers still light around his cock. Every particle in his body wants Connor to manifest into his bedroom so he can fuck him into the mattress.

 _I know you want me to be rougher._  
_You need that friction._  
  
Hank grits his teeth.

 _Maybe now I can make my strokes a little tighter._  
_You can do that now._  
_Lieutenant._

Just reading that word nearly sends Hank over the edge. He wraps his fingers around his cock a little tighter, as per Connor’s permission.

 _Your cock feels larger in my hand than usual._  
_I can tell you’ve been pent up for a while now._  
  
_You want the release._

Hank is so close, it’s hard to teeter on the edge like this.

 _I’m going to go down on you now._  
  
_All the way._

Hank sets down his phone next to him. His eyes roll back in his head as he imagines Connor immediately going down on him. No warning or resistance. Hank misses the feeling of Connor’s mouth around him. It feels like it’s been so long. Their caseload hasn’t allowed for much time for intimacy. Hank has been too tired or too bogged down with work to even want to do anything sexual. Paired with Connor’s trip…

His phone pings. Hank glances over.

 _I know you want to come._  
  
_I want you to come._

 _Come for me…_  
  
_Lieutenant._

Hank, groaning lowly, spills his cum over his stomach.

 _Send me a picture._  
_I need to see what I did to you._

With his clean hand, Hank snaps a picture from above of the streaks of cum on himself. It’s quite a mess. He doesn’t bother making it a perfect angle.

 _Thank you._ Connor texts back. Hank knows his mouth is figuratively watering at the sight.  
  
Hank sends a _:)_ in return. He’s in the right mood to send smiley faces.

Hank uses this time to clean up. He figures Connor needs time to appreciate what Hank sent.

When he gets back, he doesn’t have another message from Connor.  
_Does this do anything for you, Con?_ He asks.

Connor sends back a picture of his hand covered in synthetic cum, then: _What do you think?_

Looks like Hank got his answer. _Just wondering,_ he texts back, relief washing over him that this all isn’t one-sided.

_I need to clean up and enter sleep mode. I have some system updates and troubleshooting to go through._

Hank crawls under the covers after getting the light. _Okay Connor, good night. Good luck tomorrow._

 _Thank you._  
_Good night, Hank._

Then, after a moment, Connor sends:

 _Imagine I’m laying right next to you._  
_Imagine I just kissed you on the cheek._

Hank grins at the screen, then he falls asleep soundly.


End file.
